H[Am]ello darkness my old fri[G]end,
I've come to talk with you ag[Am]ain.
Because a vi[C]sion softl[F]y creep[C]ing
Left it's seed while I w[F]as sleep[C]ing,
And the vis[F]ion that was planted in my br[C]ain
Still rem[Am]ains
Wit[C]hin the s[G]ounds of si[Am]lence.

In restless dreams I walked alone,
Narrow streets of cobble stone.
'Neath the halo of a street lamp,
I turned my collar to the cold and damp,
When my eyes were stabbed by the flash of a neon light
That split the night
And touched the sounds of silence.

And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening,
People writing songs that voices never shared,
And no one dared
Disturb the sounds of silence.

"Fools!" said I, "you do not know,
Silence like a cancer grows.
Hear my words that I might teach you,
Take my arms that I might reach you."
But my words like silent raindrops fell...
And echoed in the wells of silence.

And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon gods they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming,
And the sign said, "The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls."
And whispered in the sounds of silence.
#
# Submitted to the ftp.nevada.edu:/pub/guitar archives
# by Steve Putz 
# 7 September 1992